Real
by Crimson Vixen
Summary: Memories of almost losing him make Allen seek proof that Lavi was indeed, really here with him.  AllenLavi in that order!shounen fluff, I'd imagine!


**a/n: **This is my first attempt EVER at AllenxLavi, or DGM in general. I've been into it for a while now but have been afraid to actually wrtie something, in fear of, well, sucking. So I apologize ahead of time if anything is off, OOC, or whatever. I also apologize for any grammar issues. Go easy on me please!

Oh and I suck at endings, so.. yeah.

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D.gray-man

_a fiction by Crimson Vixen_

**Real**

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Your hands are freezing cold, bitter to the touch. Its no wonder he flinches away when you brush your finger tips against his tender skin. He tugs himself into a tighter ball, even though he seemed perfectly relaxed before you interfered. You pull away swiftly, hugging your hand to your chest as if you've just poisoned him. He rolls onto his other side after a moment, facing you now, and presses his cheek into his open palm. It's cute, the way he sleep, as childlike as he is in his waking life, maybe less burdened.

He could be right about you, you know. Maybe you worry too much. Perhaps you're over protective. Too kind. Too responsible. Whatever it may be, you can't bring yourself to succumb to sleep. Don't even feel tired. You rather watch _him_ sleep instead; to make sure he'll be there when the sun rises in the morning. And besides, the morning glow on his sleeping face is a sight too beautiful to miss.

In fact, just to make sure he's real, that he was actually there sleeping soundly now in your bed, you reach out and brush a fiery lock out of his peaceful face, only for it to rebelliously fall back. It dangles just over his fine nose, seems to tickle him when he crinkles his face momentarily.

Again you jerk back, afraid to touch, afraid to disturb. Afraid you will somehow make him disappear. Stupid, you know, but there are things that echo in your mind. Things that he said himself, about being nothing more than ink on paper. Vulnerable, fragile. Silly, maybe, but still frightening for you when he speaks about it so casually.

He stirs, moans a little bit when thick lashes flutter open. The room is dim but a green eye lands on you easily. His regular goofy grin, sloppy in morning grogginess, the same one that has gotten you through so much already, falters when he catches the heavy baggage that weighs you down. You knew before he woke that he would see it. He was, after all, the future Bookman, and little to no details got past him. Second nature, really, to catch these things.

"Lavi…"

His name just rolls off the tongue, like it's just that natural for you to speak it. He bites his lower lip and sighs through his nose.

"Allen, you're not still…"

He doesn't want to finish the sentence, but he knows you know the rest. Tonight was not the first night that you sat at the bedside, staring at him in his slumber. Lavi had mentioned how funny it could feel at times, knowing that someone's eyes were on you while you were drifting into such an exposed state of unconsciousness, but kept falling asleep anyway. His body, his mind, are exhausted and he needs his rest. You are merely there to make sure he got it, undisturbed.

Looking into his unblinking emerald eye, you are immediately overcome with a wave of guilt. Your worry makes _him_ worry, and that in turn only makes _you_ worry _more_. The cycle always leads you here; you, troubled sick with fear and relief, over him, and _him_, wishing you wouldn't.

Again, being the future Bookman, you can kind of understand how Lavi can get over something so quickly, or at least appear to, since the boy had grown into the habit of hiding anything emotional. At least in front of the old man, as Lavi has so carefully put it when you brought it up once. You know that didn't mean he didn't have them - emotions, feelings, tears that wanted to escape, fears that needed to be expressed - and you sometimes wonder how someone could live with such a thing.

You have become accustomed to it, to his voice and his silly antics. Not dependent, per se, but possibly obsessed with the very thought of him and everything that _was_ him. But somehow, seeing the boy smile now twists something in your gut. 'Coz, you're not sure if you could survive, really, without seeing that glorious smile every, single, day…

That's probably because it still feels so fresh. Hell, it kind of is. Behind your lids, the ebony you see starts to wrap you in a cold embrace, and you can still hear Lavi's desperate, heart wrenching screams. You'll never forget the way he cried your name and reached a crippled hand out to you, how the agony ripping through his throat cracked with rawness, how he counted on you and how you in turn, needed him. What makes it so terrifying is that you aren't used to hearing him sound like that, or look so lifeless. When you close your eyes you can still picture Lavi covered in his own blood, sprawled lifelessly in an odd angle in a pool of it and there's just _so much_… So you don't sleep. You don't close your eyes. If you keep your eyes open you can see the real thing, very much _alive_ and with you.

Scarier still was that these are not dark fears or thoughts of what could be. They are memories, images of things that have come to pass.

You swallow hard, remembering that the very object of your thoughts is staring at you. Once the horrid memories give you temporary peace, you place your hand to the back of Lavi's head, cupping it and pulling him gently closer until your foreheads are touching. You can't look directly at him just yet, even though his eyes are closed with weariness. He might just fall asleep like that if you leave him long enough.

"Lavi," you say, almost unaware that it's your own voice that you don't fully recognize. You feel slightly out of character but Lavi does that to you, somehow. You watch his eye open and lazily gaze into yours. You lick your lips before continuing. "I almost lost you."

Your throat constricts and your eyes burn when you say it out loud. It's a completely different feeling than when you get by just thinking about it. You will the churning in your chest to go away. Lavi laughs a little behind closed, lightly upturned lips, smirking at you like he thinks you're so silly. That's most likely the case.

"Almost," he says with a shrug, honest as always. "But you didn't. Feel."

He takes your hand and presses it to his chest, and you can feel the steady rumble of his rapidly beating heart, the heart he knows he's not supposed to have. He risks a lot to be with you, and he does it of his own free will, _knowing_ what he could lose. That alone kills you and keeps you breathing at the same time.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere. So you can go to sleep."

You hold your breath, albeit momentarily. A promise is a big commitment, but Lavi knows that. Wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. You can't help but smile back at his tired expression and push your face into the comfort of the crook of his neck. It's wonderful, comforting, how real he is against you. This, you could stay like this forever.

"Everyone," you say. "I want to protect everyone."

He sighs again. You are not sure if he's annoyed or something else, until his short chortle vibrates against your chin and his hand finds its way to the base of you skull. He's comforting you by pressing his rose-petal soft lips to your head. Once you're sure he's not going anywhere, you pull back and shine a smile – a full one – his way.

"That's more like it! That's the Allen I kno—mmph!?"

He can't finish because you rush forward and crash your lips against his in a bruising kiss. Sometimes Lavi talks too much, anyway. His mouth tastes sweet and hot, so you dive deeper, hungrier. He makes shocked, off guard noises into your fevered mouth, tongue working fast to keep up with you. You run your hands up and down his arms, mindful of the injuries that are still in the beginning stages of healing. It reminds you to slow down and be gentle with him, not to break him, beacuse he was still in pain. Because Lavi wasn't imortal.

"Wow," he says when you both pull away.

He figures you out the second you start slipping his clothes charily down his shoulders. His smile is playful and knowing. Your heart lightens and your spirit sparks when Lavi reminds you that no, he isn't leaving you and yeah, he loves you, when he lets you gently push him down onto the bed. And you know he's going to be alright, when he opens his mouth and says something that's just, well, for lack of better words, so Lavi-like.

"Strike!"


End file.
